


Still Loving You

by lilyhatesjazzhands



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Anal Sex, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, fan fiction, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyhatesjazzhands/pseuds/lilyhatesjazzhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Christmas Fic Fest prompt:<br/>John/Simon have a drunk/high one-night stand. It means something to John but Simon never mentions it again. Then something happens during the reunion. (Inspiration: Still Loving You, by the Scorpions)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Loving You

**Author's Note:**

> ** This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance in reality is entirely coincidental.**
> 
> Also, I haven't bothered to check any dates or facts, so hopefully any of the things I mention that are supposed to be factually correct are at least close to factually correct. XD

1983:  
The air is electric in the club tonight. It's a particularly good night out, with just the right mix of people. Simon sits talking, drinking, laughing with Nick and some friends: Gary, Steve, and Paul. Who knows where John is. Off getting high, or at the bar, presumably. It's not John's style to pull this early.

"Well, out with it, Rhodes," teases Gary. "If you had to kiss a guy, what's your type?"

"I don't have a type, Gary. And I'm not sure why you still think I'm gay. In case you haven't noticed, we're all wearing makeup and women's clothes. Also, I have a girlfriend." Nick replies, only mildly miffed.

"I'm not saying you're gay or _bisexual_ , if you will, it's just a question - just describe the guy that would make you want to put your lips on his lips, your tongue in his mouth, all like laskdfjasdlfa--" Gary makes obscene tongue gestures in Nick's direction.

"You're absolutely disgusting, Gary."

Everyone laughs and Simon gives Nick a shove with his shoulder.

"Come on, Nicky, it's just a question."

Nick thinks for a beat, grabbing the floor with his silence. "Well, _obviously_ he would have to have impeccable fashion sense. Expert makeup application skills. Haunting eyes. And an extremely large cock." Nick tries to hide his smirk behind a sip of his drink as the guys just stare at him, open-mouthed. Simon nearly falls off his chair laughing.

"Aww, what did I miss?" John and his smile walk up at just the right moment to be thoroughly confused.

"You'd miss a lot less if you weren't constantly trying to score," Simon teases.

"Very funny," replies John, holding up his right hand to display a fat joint. "But I got this. And there's more where that came from."

Gary and Steve voice their approval and invite him to sit. All the seats are taken so he plops his bony ass down on Simon's lap, one arm around his back to hold him steady. John grips the joint between his lips, lights it, and takes a deep drag. Then he fumbles the lighter and leans down to pick it up, nearly falling off Simon's lap and pulling him off the chair with him.

"Jesus, Johnny. How much have you had to drink already?" Simon speaks directly into his ear to keep it just between them.

"Oh, I don't know, Charlie. Here, your turn." With the hand that's around his back, John passes the joint to Simon, leaning close to his face and slipping it into his mouth for Simon to suck on. Simon inhales deep and turns his face away from John as he exhales.

John then leans forward, pulling Simon with him in the hand-off to Gary.

"What about you, Le Bon?" Gary asks before exhaling. "What's your type? What type of man would you put your mouth on?"

John leans forward on Simon's lap so he can look him square in the face, his hand gripping Simon's far shoulder. His face crinkles into a wide, toothy grin, eyes mere slits. "Wow, is this what we're talking about?!" Then, straightening his face, "Yea, _Le Bon,_ what's your type?"

Simon's blue eyes flash devilishly at John before addressing the group, "I don't need to have a type." Then, turning to look John in the eye, "I can appreciate beauty wherever I see it." He grabs the back of John's head and kisses him firmly.

John smiles at Simon and suddenly, his whole body is possesed with laughter. He bumps his body into Simon's and presses his forehead to the side of his face before reaching forward to grab the joint again. He notices Simon's eyes on his lips as he inhales, and smiles, pulling Simon's head forward to blow the smoke into his mouth, their lips _just…NOT…_ touching.

Simon exhales and pushes at John, unnerved by the closeness of John's skin to his face. "Ok, Johnny, you have to get your own seat now. Your bony ass is hurting my legs."

"Hey, you can have one of ours. We're off," offers Steve.

John, Nick, Simon, and Paul continue to enjoy each others' company, and the alcohol is flowing.

"Be right back." John gets up and heads to the loo. Simon sips at his drink but isn't hearing the conversation anymore. He's preoccupied with thoughts of John and his mouth and his half-lidded puppy dog eyes. He puts his glass down, stands up and heads off in the direction of the bogs.

Simon doesn't have a plan. As he walks distractedly down the hallway, he literally runs smack into John, who is on his way back. Noticing that the club's back exit is just steps away, he pushes John out the back door into the alley and up against the brick wall.

"Charlie---AAHH, what are you doing?" John laughs heartily as his back hits the wall.

Simon leans in close and traces the line of John's jaw with his finger, pulls him foward by his chin, and presses his lips to John's. Simon feels John's mouth break into a smile against his lips. He releases John, who manages to get out the word, "Charlie--," before Simon crushes his mouth down on John's lips again. Both of Simon's hands grip John by the back of the neck and he parts his lips and slides his tongue into John's mouth with little care for resistance.

This time, when Simon releases him, John is breathing heavily. He can barely stand, but the desire in his eyes shines darkly, and he grips the front of Simon's shirt. Simon moves forward again, pressing his body into John, pinning him against the wall, moaning as John kisses him sloppily, their lips and tongues sliding wetly against each other.

John pulls at Simon's lower lip with his teeth and Simon groans, pressing into him and jerking John's hips forward. He's massively aroused, and apparently John isn't totally hating this, either.

Simon grabs the band of John's leather pants, tugging John's body around like a rag doll, unbuttoning him and reaching his hand inside. He then pushes John back into the wall and kisses him deeply. He slides the skin of his cock back and forth and is rewarded with delicious moans in his mouth and hot, forceful air on his face.

John breaks the kiss to lean his head back against the wall, panting, his legs like noodles, offering Simon access to his neck, which he readily accepts. Simon sucks at the skin on his neck, grinding himself into John's hip, threading his fingers in the hair at the base of John's neck with his free hand.

John's hands fumble around at Simon's pants, trying desperately to work the button and get his hands in there, as Simon kisses him. "Ugh," he whines. "Charlie. Help me."

"Come on, Johnny. You can't undo a button?" He feels mild discomfort at the fact that his friend is apparently so stoned that he can't even unbutton his pants. "But he's here," Simon thinks, "and he's willing. _God, is he willing._ " He pushes it all aside and listens to his cock, which urges him to stop thinking so much.

John's head is swirling with drugs and booze and _sensation_ ; sensation unlike he has ever felt before. While Simon is occupying his mouth and his cock, John rubs indiscriminately at the bulge in Simon's pants. It's all he can do, after his miserable failure with the button. He feels as if he's going to pass out or explode and shortly thereafter, ascend to heaven as molecules of energy.

Simon reaches his hand down to unbutton his own pants and then runs his hand up the side of John's face to the hair at the top of his head, pulling John's head to the side and nipping at his neck. He bites down hard as he feels John's warm hand close around him. "Oh god, _finally,_ " he thinks, moaning into his neck. His rhythm on John falters but quickly resumes.

A gorgeous sound comes from deep within John and Simon presses his body against him in an attempt to minimize the damage. As John comes, Simon captures his mouth and the sounds of his release, riding the wave of his jerking body and almost collapsing legs. John somehow manages to keep his hand on Simon's cock, squeezing his head with tight, shallow strokes, rubbing against the skin on his stomach. "Oh my god, Johnny, you're so fucking---Ungh, _FUCK,_ " Simon buries his face in John's neck, screaming into his skin, as his orgasm grips his body.

John grabs Simon's face and pulls him up, looking into his eyes. Simon sees a vacant look of spent passion staring back at him, and has to catch John to steady him as he steps onto a rock, which throws him off balance.

"Are you going to be okay?" Simon questions, genuinely concerned, as he removes his shirt to clean them both up, sliding on his jacket and shoving the shirt into the pocket. "Johnny, I think we should go back in separately. Why don't you wait here and sober up a bit, then come back inside. But don't be too long. I'll come check on you in a few if you're not back yet."

John nods in the affirmative. He sits down, hugs his knees tight to his body, and leans his head back against the brick. He wishes he wasn't outside in an alley. And _Le Bon_. "Le Bon" is right. "Where in the world did that come from?" he wonders, as his mind struggles to comprehend the events that had just taken place. Charlie is his best friend and now this added dimension to their relationship that is so unexpected yet so welcome? He stands up, collects himself, and walks back inside.

++++

Next morning's lunchtime photoshoot is painful. If he had his way, he would still be sleeping at the time the photoshoot was set to start. Smoking that much pot so late at night always practically puts him into a coma. At least he doesn't have a hangover. He just had to awaken well before noon when he could have slept until at least 4pm. But the makeup artists are miracle workers, and as usual, through the magic of foundation, eyeliner, a shirt unbuttoned halfway down his torso, and the promise of sex, they manage to make John look sleepy-sexy and absolutely edible.

These shots are of the band individually, and it is entirely by chance that John runs into Simon in the hallway. "Charlie…" John begins.

"What's up, Johnny?"

"Tired."

"Yea, I can tell."

John stands there nervously, wanting Simon to pin him to the wall and put his mouth on his body again, yes, right there in the hallway. He is feening for the warmth and the attention, and Simon's strong hands gripping his neck. He can barely look him in the eye, afraid that he might see the desire lurking just beneath.

Simon's not sure how much John remembers about the previous night, and he's also not sure how he's taking it, he seems a bit nervous. Simon's eyes dart quickly to his mouth, remembering the events of the night before. He remembers how full and soft and wet John's lips were, and thinks briefly about what that mouth might do with his cock. No time for a conversation that heavy right now. He quickly composes himself and flashes John a smile.

"Hey, knock 'em dead, Tigger," Simon jokes, with a playful punch to his chest. He walks off, leaving John standing there in bewilderment. John sighs heavily. Did he really expect Simon to push him up against the wall and have his way with him? YES. No, NO, of course not. But Simon had acted like nothing even happened.

John finishes up at the shoot and joins Andy for a bit of day-drinking at the Rum Runner.

+++++

2003:  
The long, hot shower sure did him some good. Simon is clean and relaxed in his worn cotton t-shirt and comfy ripped jeans. He turns on the satellite radio and flops down on the bed, splayed out as if he's making a sheet angel, and sighs contentedly. Simon chuckles as he recognizes the intro guitar strains of an 80s rock ballad. "Scorpions. Uh...'Still Loving You'. Classic," he mutters to himself.

This evening had kicked off the beginning of the reunion tour. God, they were so hot tonight - the stage and the crowd, and the five of them back together again. Johnny was right, it felt like home. All the nervousness about how they would be received was dispelled the moment he saw just how many faces stared back at him from the crowd. And they were all screaming. Once, and _still_ , they were screaming.

A knock at the door jolts him from his reverie. He checks the peephole before turning the lock and is a bit surprised to see that it's John. Simon pauses for a moment, his hand flat on the door. Old thoughts and feelings flirt briefly with his mind (and his body), and he squeezes his eyes shut and exhales slowly to compose himself. He opens the door to welcome John.

"Johnny! Come in."

"Hey Charlie. What a fucking night, eh?" Seeing casual Simon in his torn jeans and soft shirt and the way it drapes on his body brings a smile to John's lips, memories of days gone by. Ever since he stepped foot inside Simon's suite, his body has felt as if it's enveloped in a warm, comfort bubble.

The two men stand facing each other, each leaning against a wall of the suite's hallway. They stare at each other a bit too long, eyes softening. John swallows thickly as Simon moves toward him, stopping directly in front of him, the two of them still connected at the eyes.

Simon reaches out and hesitates for just a moment before brushing lightly at the lines at the side of John's left eye with his thumb. He cocks his head as he traces down his cheekbone to his mouth. Both of them inhale sharply before speaking.

"Johnny--"

"Charlie--"

John smiles, dropping his eyes; Simon's thumb returns to the side of John's mouth and continues to trace down to his jawline. John licks his lips as Simon removes his fingers and places the palm of his hand on the side of John's face.

All the feelings from that night years ago rush into John's body: how much he had enjoyed Simon's attention, the closeness of him, the way his mouth had made him feel; but the inattention, the utter lack of acknowledgement of what they had done together had been more than he could take. He had spent many a night replaying it in his mind, while drinking, of course. Or doing blow - just to speed things up and carry him through to the next day, and the next. Eventually, even that memory had faded. But it was back, now, with a vengeance.

John sighs, "I need you to answer something for me, Charlie. Why didn't you ever mention what happened, all those years ago? I wanted you so badly, for weeks, wanted you to grab me and put your hands on me, put your mouth on me, wherever we were, it didn't matter...and you just left me hanging."

Simon was about to broach the same subject, but John's words left his own choked in his throat. He drops his hand from John's face, his body jerking involuntarily.

"Go on. What were you going to say?" John prods softly.

Simon looks deep into his eyes and reaches for his hand. "Oh, Johnny, I had no idea. I thought you were weirded out by it. And frankly, I always felt terrible, as if I had taken advantage of you. I wasn't very gentle, and you weren't very sober," he explains, absentmindedly rubbing at the skin in the palm of John's hand with his thumb.

John closes his eyes and smiles, acknowledging their fateful misunderstanding.

Simon moves into John's space, leaning his cheek against him. "You don't hate me, do you?" he whispers plaintively.

John feels his head start to swirl and he nudges Simon off his face to look him in the eye. "Jesus, Charlie, how could I ever hate you? I fucking love you. You're in my blood."

Simon bends his head down to kiss John's neck and John leans his head back, surrendering control. He has been waiting to feel Simon's mouth on him again for far too long, and it's every bit as wonderful as he remembers; even more so, with the decades of experience behind him, behind them both.

John grabs Simon's hands and brings them up to fold around the back of his neck. Simon grips tightly as he leans in to kiss John, stopping just short of making contact with his lips.

"I want you, Johnny." Simon's breath is hot on John's lips. John's lower jaw falls open as he exhales hard and licks his lips. At the sight of his tongue, Simon presses his lips down, _finally_. John absorbs the pressure of him and melts back into the wall, moaning softly and pulling Simon in with him. Simon alternates kissing with words, breaking the kiss to describe what he wants to do to him.

"I want to kiss your body, Johnny." John welcomes Simon's tongue into his mouth as Simon's hands unbutton his shirt.

Simon pulls away again. "And Johnny, I want to suck your big cock, Johnny." He pushes John's shirt open and runs his hands through his chest hair, moaning into John's mouth.

"Fuck, Charlie." John is breathing heavily.

" _You_ are my type of man, Johnny. It was always only you." He stops to look John square in the face. "And you are so much hotter when you're sober."

John's hand is in the hair at the back of Simon's neck, fingers moving firmly up and down. He's trying to stay still, but his body is moving on its own, he's practically squirming against the wall, waiting for Simon to put his lips on him again.

"Charlie. Shut fuck up and kiss me already," John growls, pulling Simon's head closer. "Kiss me, suck my cock, devour me, sounds like a good plan, _do it._ " He moves his hands down to just above Simon's ass as Simon kisses him hard, his tongue thrusting into John's mouth. John slides his hands forward to grab Simon's ass and pulls him into his body, feeling Simon's arousal as it comes in contact with his own.

This time, John doesn't have a button problem. He reaches his hand down and deftly snaps open Simon's button with a jerk and a flick of his wrist. The sound Simon makes into his mouth is delicious, but John has only a moment to savor the thought that he might have taken control before Simon pushes him tightly against the wall, leaning into him as he bends down to slide off John's shoes and pants.

Simon then stands back and removes his own shirt and pants. He moves back to John and grabs his cock, stroking as he sucks at John's collarbones and rubs his face against the hair on John's chest. Then Simon is down on his knees, rubbing his lips softly over the head of John's cock before taking him into his mouth.

John's body jerks at the hot, wet contact and he cries out, throwing his head back against the wall. Simon is moaning as he slides his mouth and hand back and forth on John, working into a steady rhythm.

Suddenly, John's hands are in his hair, and Simon's cock twitches at the thought of John taking control, but then he hears John calling him.

"Charlie. Wait, Charlie, please. Come up here," John pleads.

Simon stands up to face him, eyes concerned. "What is it?"

John's eyes are glowing with intensity, and he pulls Simon against his body. "I want you inside me," John breathes, voice barely above a whisper. Simon lunges forward to kiss him deeply.

"Johnny. Are you sure? I mean--"

"It's not my first rodeo, Charlie. I know what I'm asking. _Fuck me._ "

"Ok, ok. Shit, I have lube, I do _not_ have condoms. What was I thinking?"

"I don't care, Charlie. _Please._ "

It was the begging that finally got Simon moving, and he quickly fishes the bottle out of his bag of bathroom things. Simon comes to the realization that John always knows just how to work him, whether he is overtly taking control, or not, he is _always_ in control of Simon's body.

Even now, as he roughly turns John around and presses him against the wall with his hand on the back of his neck, John is in control.

Even now, as Simon presses close and slides one, then two, lube-coated fingers inside him, John is in control.

Simon turns John's face to the side, pressing it against the wall, and bites at his earlobe. John is moaning with every thrust of Simon's arm.

"I didn't say 'finger fuck' me, Charlie. I want your cock inside me, is that clear?"

 _Fuck._ "Yes, Johnny. It's clear."

John feels Simon pressing against him and presses back. As Simon slowly fills him up, he moans loudly and his hands reach around to grab Simon's ass, trying to pull him in deeper. Simon grabs his hands and puts them up on the wall, above his head and out to the side. Holding John in place, he slowly begins to fuck him.

Simon releases John's hands and they immediately go back into Simon's hair, pulling his head forward. Simon snakes one arm around John's stomach; the other, around his shoulder and holds him tight as he thrusts into him.

The movement of Simon's cock is hitting just the right spot every time he thrusts into John. "Charlie. Charlie, I'm… _fuck_ …" John leans back into Simon's body as his orgasm takes control. Simon holds him tight, John's leaning pushing him in deeper, and he stutters and cries out moments later, crushing John's body in his grip.

Simon pulls out of him but doesn't leave; he lays upright against John, against the wall, their bodies sweaty and warm, breathing together. Against the wall, John closes his eyes and smiles.

++++


End file.
